


The Wayfarers Inn

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [137]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-21
Updated: 2009-01-21
Packaged: 2018-04-06 05:18:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4209435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Our lads' Christmas vacation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wayfarers Inn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [obi_ki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/obi_ki/gifts).



> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For  
> My beta team: Nerowill, Emila-Wan, and Carol  
> Mali Wane for posting  
> My former betas: Alex, Ula, and Padawan Sue
> 
> My favorite Arcadia, [Christmas in Williamsburg](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1752722), shows their unofficial first wedding ceremony.
> 
> Their first visit to The Wayfarers Inn in 2004, [Autumn Rhapsody](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1798075).

  
[Capurnia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Capurnia)'s beautiful manip

"Welcome back!"  
  
Rick Collier smiled at Quinn over the reception desk of The Wayfarers Inn.  
  
"Thank you. Glad to be here," Quinn answered politely, dropping his duffel on the desk.  
  
Ian was parking the car; they'd taken the Audi since it was made for the snowy roads of December in upstate New York. They had spent Christmas with their family yesterday, and decided on a short vacation before classes started in early January.  
  
Four years ago, they had come here by chance, discovering the inn during a romantic bike trip over the trails. Now, those trails were covered with snow as the inn donned its seasonal cloak.  
  
When Quinn signed the guest register, Rick caught sight of his wedding band.  
  
"Congratulations!" Rick proudly showed off his own ring, courtesy of Aaron Panakian, the inn's wine captain.  
  
"And to you," Quinn said warmly.  
  
Rick and Quinn made small talk while dealing with keys and MasterGuard, not to mention the 20% off coupon, which had lured the professors back for another stay.  
  
When Ian came in, stamping snow off his Williamsburg boots, Rick greeted him with enthusiasm and invited his guests for drinks before dinner.  
  
They headed off to their room, this time on the second floor. Cold in the December dusk, Ian started the fire going before taking off his jacket and boots.  
  
Rossetti reproductions had adorned their previous room; now they were surrounded by the paintings of Millais, his Pre-Raphaelite brother. The marble mantelpiece above the fireplace held a cherrywood clock and busts of Dickens' iconic characters: David Copperfield, Oliver Twist, and Samuel Pickwick.  
  
And the bed! It graced the center of the room, king-sized, as befitting its regal heft, and proud of it. An apt reminder of how far they'd come, not the embarrassment it had been all those years ago.  
  
They tumbled onto it like exuberant children, unable to resist its pillowy comfort. Totally at their ease, they snuggled into each other contentedly.  
  
"Nothing like the start of a vacation," Ian sighed happily.  
  
Quinn nipped his nose. "Especially after this semester. If I heard one more complaint about that 20-page paper on Fielding..."  
  
Ian chuckled. "What did they expect in an Honors seminar? That essay was on the syllabus from day one."  
  
Quinn nodded into Ian's wayward hair. "But they only start writing hours before it's due."  
  
"Makes grading easier." Ian smiled into Quinn's shoulder. He ran a hand along Quinn's nubby sweater, hypnotizing him by rubbing back and forth over his chest.  
  
Quinn hummed in appreciation. It was still too cold to undress his laddie, even under the covers, but that didn't mean they couldn't have a bit of fun. He kissed Ian's forehead, brushing his lips along a crease.  
  
Ian smiled, creasing his forehead even more. "Feels good."  
  
"You feel good, laddie." Quinn moved down to kiss the bridge of Ian's nose, lingering over it the way he did when he was about to make love to his lad.  
  
Ian sighed contentedly, relishing the intimacy of this private gesture. Eventually, he raised his chin for a kiss on the lips.  
  
Quinn was happy to oblige. Ah, those lips! Could he ever get enough of them? The sweet taste of his lad left him hungry for more.  
  
Ian could feel that hunger in Quinn's kisses and slid his leg between Quinn's thighs, denim roughly rubbing against denim.  
  
Though the air was still cool around him, Quinn suddenly felt warmer. He pushed up into Ian's knee, grateful for the delicious friction. He was hardening fast, amazed he could feel so much despite the layers of denim and cotton between them.  
  
Ian loved to tease Quinn, to excite him to a slow burn. "Like this, nin daer?" (my husband)  
  
"Mmm-hmm," Quinn said, kissing him again, slow and sweet, as he continued pressing into Ian.  
  
When Ian felt the dampness on his knee, even through all their clothing, he knew he'd kept his husband waiting long enough. His hand scrabbled at Quinn's zipper as he intensified the kiss, muffling Quinn's little moans with his mouth. He finally eased it down over the slippery bulge in Quinn's boxer briefs.  
  
Ian petted Quinn's cock through heather-grey cotton, loving the force of it pushing into his hand. He closed his eyes at the exquisite feel of pre-come seeping from his own cock. Quinn's thrusts had already partly pushed his shaft out of its pouch, the skin underneath hot to his touch. He peeled the damp cotton aside, eager to reach his prize below.  
  
Ah, the feel of Quinn's cock in his hand! Perfect. Ian ran his fingers over the shaft, plump and firm against his fingertips.  
  
"Ungh!" Quinn growled as his own hand came down on top of Ian's. Desperate, he ground into his laddie's palm, breathing as hard and fast as his thrusts. He shouted as he felt the first spurts, angling his chin up reflexively, seeking a kiss from Ian.  
  
Quinn devoured those lips, gasping into Ian's mouth as he came and came. He shuddered into his lad, then sprawled back on the bed. Trying to keep his eyes open was a losing battle, and he fell asleep in seconds.  
  
"Oh, fuck," Ian muttered under his breath, cock trapped in his jeans, aching and throbbing. No way he could sleep like this. He unzipped himself carefully and jammed his fingers into his underwear, relief coursing through him as he grabbed his cock. Too far gone to care about waking Quinn, he pumped his erection between Quinn's slippery thighs.  
  
Caught in mid-snore, Quinn's eyes opened wide in startlement. Ian was wild above him. Quinn had just enough wits left about him to tense his thighs to increase Ian's pleasure. He loved intercrural sex with his lad; he just wished he'd been awake at the start of it.  
  
Ian finally saw he was awake, and the grin he gave Quinn was feral indeed. His hips rammed into Quinn as he thrust again and again. "Qui!" he roared as the spasms took him. He collapsed into Quinn's arms, still shaking.  
  
"Laddie, laddie," Quinn crooned. "Sorry about falling asleep on you." He smiled when Ian shook his head against his chest, too tired himself for words. "Wake me up next time. Don't want to miss out."  
  
Sleepy eyes looked up at him in gratitude. "Deal."  
  
Quinn had just enough energy to snag some tissues, swiping over them perfunctorily. "Sleep tight, lad."  
  
He was answered by a yawn as he drew the covers over them, still fully clothed.  
  


* * *

A drop of Quinn's sweat in his eye woke Ian a couple of hours later. The room felt 20 degrees warmer than when they'd checked in. Clothes, covers, friskiness, and fire had conspired to overheat him. He eased out of Quinn's arms, trying not to wake him, and pulled the quilt down. He shucked his clothing and headed to the bathroom.

By the time he'd finished, Quinn was sitting up against the pillows with his shirt off, looking impossibly mellow. He grinned appreciatively at the gorgeous sight in front of him and patted the sheet beside him.

Ian sauntered over to the bed, hips at full tilt. He slid into Quinn's arms, grateful finally to feel skin against skin. "Hey, handsome."

"Mmmm. You're still a bit damp." Quinn rubbed his discarded shirt over Ian, then covered him with the sheet.

Ian cuddled into him. "That was wonderful." He kissed Quinn's shoulder, peeking above the covers. "I love it when you're out of control. I got hard just from hearing you."

"You really had me going, lad." Quinn chuckled. "I'll try to stay up a bit longer next time, though."

"It's okay. You woke up just in time." Ian winked.

Sighing when the clock on the mantel chimed six, Quinn kissed Ian's spiky hair. "Guess we'd better get ready for drinks with Rick and Aaron."

"Do we have to?" Ian tried his most winning smile, and a hand circling Quinn's hip...

...But Quinn wasn't having any. "Up you go, lad." He gave a gentle push to Ian's shoulder.

"Only for you," Ian grumbled as he got out of bed. He came around the other side to give Quinn a hand up, then pulled him into an embrace, loving the feel of Quinn's jeans against his bare skin. Slapping his backside, he said, "Better get into the shower."

"Aye, aye, General!" Quinn snapped a salute and sneaked a pat of his own on his way to the bathroom.

While Quinn was cleaning up, Ian pulled on faded jeans and one of Quinn's old sweaters that had shrunk in the wash. He combed his hair, chuckling as it went its own way anyway. At least Quinn would like it.

Sure enough, as soon as Quinn came back in, he went straight for Ian's hair, running his big hand through it with proprietary satisfaction. Now Quinn was naked and Ian clothed. How would they ever make it out the door?

Ian was even more tempted than he'd been the other way around. Quinn's skin was so delicious, just begging for a touch.

Quinn could see that touch costing them the next hour, and gave his lad one kiss, along with his sternest look, before he turned away to dress. His Aunt Kathleen had sent him an Aran pullover to replace the one he'd worn to rags, and he paired it with Levi's.

After banking the fire, Quinn met Ian at the door as his lad gave him a wistful smile.

* * *

Rick and Aaron were waiting for them in the inn's small dining room, already sipping their drinks. The couples greeted each other warmly, then the professors settled down to enjoy Barrington Blush with their hosts, one of the region's excellent wines.

Rick said, "We have only one other family staying with us tonight, but they've gone to the village for dinner, so we can relax."

"That's a relief." Ian grinned. "We were right in the middle of a semester last time. I'm looking forward to a proper vacation."

"Sounds good," said Quinn. "It's nice to be back here. We had a great time a few years ago."

Aaron beamed. "And you haven't been to Enderwald yet. Think European Christmas village."

When the wine was finished, their hosts excused themselves to see to dinner. Ever tactful, Rick mentioned that he and Aaron usually ate around 9, freeing their guests to share an intimate meal.

A few minutes later, Rick brought out a tray with crusty bread and olive oil, water glasses, butternut squash soup, and homemade croutons.

"Just what I needed," Ian said in between spoonfuls of soup.

Quinn nodded. "It's seven degrees outside, if you can believe the thermometer by the shutters."

"Sounds about right. I'm glad you got me that new parka." Ian patted his husband's hand. "Doesn't keep me as warm as you do, though," he added with a frisky grin.

"Delighted to hear it, laddie." Quinn turned his hand so he could lace fingers with his husband.

"After breakfast tomorrow, let's head out to Enderwald. I'd love to find some handmade toys for Lelia." Ian scraped his bowl into orange streaks against the cream.

"She'd love a nutcracker. D'y'know, she told me she wants to be Clara in her ballet class recital next year?" Quinn chuckled. "Apparently, the Sugarplum Fairy wasn't a big enough role for her."

Ian snorted. "Our ambitious girl. She might just get it."

Aaron came over with Veal Arboreo. "We used a Wagner Red from 2005 in the sauce. Risotto is one of my specialties."

Thanking him, the professors picked up their forks expectantly. They were not disappointed. Forks were all they needed to cut the meat, it was so tender. Conversation lagged as they concentrated on their meal.

"I liked this even better than the schnitzel we had here last time," Quinn said after a sip of water.

Ian nodded in agreement. "Just delicious. Room for dessert?" he teased.

Quinn winked. "Is there ever any doubt, laddie?"

Rick knew when to make his entrance. He carried generous slices of apple strudel, dusted with spices.

"So good," Ian said with gusto. "Remember when Mom made this with her own phyllo for Thanksgiving?"

"Mmm-hmm. She really spoils us." Quinn swirled a forkful around the plate to pick up the ginger and cinnamon.

When he finished the last currant, Ian sat back in satisfaction. He was already thinking ahead to a good book by the fireplace.

Rick and Aaron returned to see how they'd liked the meal. A few sincerely given compliments later, they were in their room, with Quinn putting a log on the fire.

They grabbed books and flannel pajamas from their duffels, then changed into them as quickly as possible, not wanting their skin exposed to the chill. They settled down to read in the two wing chairs by the hearth. Ian was about a third of the way through The Catch Trap by M.Z. Bradley, while Quinn re-read Kushner's Swordspoint.

"We're lucky Bradley's husband convinced her to save it," Quinn mused when Ian reached over to take his hand. "Mario and Tommy feel like friends of mine, after all these years."

Ian squeezed his fingers. "I'm glad you recommended it. There's something about the flying trapeze..."

"I can just see you up there. Reminds me of the high bar." Quinn squeezed back.

"All that gymnastics training's awfully familiar." Ian yawned.

Quinn asked, "Ready for bed?"

"Yeah." Ian headed for the bathroom.

After banking the fire again, Quinn used the facilities in turn, then got under the covers gratefully. He pulled a pliant Ian into his arms and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

A cloudy morning meant sleeping in for the men. Ian finally stirred around noon, waking Quinn with him. Their first kiss of the day was groggy and scratchy, but still managed to be just what they needed. Quinn was pushing his own pajamas down before his lad settled on top of him.

"Morning, laddie," Quinn rumbled, voice rough with sleep. He slid Ian's flannels over firm hips, then opened the buttons on Ian's pajama shirt, wondering if they were so big to make it easy to take off.

Ian's sweet kiss answered him as his hands wiggled under Quinn's pajamas to pet sleep-warm flesh. He rolled his hips languorously, enjoying the slow slide of skin on skin. He willed his hands away from their cocks, wanting the pleasure to last.

Quinn got it, as always, and kept his thrusts long and slow. He murmured personalized Quenya into his laddie's ear, a private language all their own. He nipped at Ian's earlobe, nibbled his neck, and nuzzled his sideburn.

"Oh, yeah!" Ian grunted, loving the attention.

And Quinn loved lavishing him with it. Thick fingers heavy on his lad's back, he swept lower, to run circles over Ian's buttocks. He pulled his husband into him, driving up at the same time. Twin groans shivered in the noon air.

Quinn pushed his tongue into that inviting mouth and thrust in time with his cock. His hips surged off the bed as he came onto Ian's groin and thighs, relishing Ian's answering splashes, hot along his shaft and testicles.

They just lay there for a while, content to rest for now.

"Must be an aphrodisiac in the wine," Ian whispered.

"Must be the aphrodisiac in bed with me," Quinn countered with a snort.

Gratified his husband still saw him that way, Ian rubbed his lips over Quinn's cheek. "Dibs on the first shower," he said, knowing that Quinn could do with a rest after their lovemaking. He got out of bed, smiling at the sucking sound as their bodies separated. Some semen dripped down his right leg, which he caught with a tissue just before it hit the carpet. He pulled the covers over Quinn, who turned on his side and burrowed into them.

Ian showered and dressed without waking his husband. Then he sat on the side of the bed and stroked through chestnut hair. Sparkling blue eyes opened, rewarding Ian. He kissed Quinn completely awake, then rose so Quinn could get up. Chuckling when he saw the state of Quinn's pajamas -- half-unbuttoned, with the waistband slipping off his knees -- he sat down again to enjoy the show.

Quinn's eyes crinkled at his laddie's chuckle. Taking off his shirt and throwing it on the bed, he casually stretched his arms above his head, savoring his lad's "Mmm." He let the pants slip all the way down, then stepped out of them. Most of the semen had already soaked into the fabric. He walked jauntily to the bathroom, mimicking Ian's insouciance to great effect. As he closed the bathroom door, he saw Ian's grin and answered it cockily.

When Quinn came out of the bathroom, he found Ian reading by the fire. He dressed quickly, warmed by Ian's eyes on him, instead of his book. While he was running a comb through his hair, Ian came up and pressed into him for a toothpaste-flavored kiss. He pressed back, but it was hunger of a different kind which propelled them out the door.

Rick smiled at them as they walked into the dining room. He gave them a table near the pot-bellied stove and handed them hand-written menus. The other family of guests was eating a few tables away and exchanged smiles with them. Mulled cider, pancakes and the inn's famous rum maple syrup sounded perfect this afternoon.

"I'd like to order some stuff from the country store and have it sent home. Let's ask Rick for the phone number." Ian grinned. "Remember how much you liked their lemon curd and brandied pears?"

"Good idea, lad. I'd much rather walk to the village than go back there, especially since it's about 18 degrees outside." Quinn unfolded his napkin.

Aaron brought out their cider in steaming mugs. "Enjoying yourselves, guys?"

"It's just as cozy as ever," Ian replied with a smile, with Quinn nodding his agreement.

"So what are you up to in The Catch Trap?" Quinn asked.

"Oh, the part when Tommy goes to live with the Santellis in California." Ian stirred his cider to cool it, knowing better than to blow on it from past experience.

"I like that section. Getting to know Lissa and Stella a bit better." Quinn took his elbows off the table when he saw Rick coming over with their breakfast. He poured his entire mini-jug of maple syrup on his pancakes and watched in amusement when Ian rationed it.

The pancakes were thin but fluffy, with none of the mealiness that could make them heavy. As if they couldn't tell from dinner, they were in expert hands here at the inn.

Pleasantly full, Ian pushed his plate aside. "Let's relax a bit before setting out."

They meandered back to their room and put on cardigans while waiting for the fire to warm them up. Quinn pawed through his duffel and got out the travel Monopoly game Ethan had given them for Christmas. It was a Luke set, with the properties changed to reflect the university's buildings. The Blues -- Taton Hall and Isley Quad -- made up Ian's favorite monopoly; the Greens -- Wookly Center, Krayton Hall, and the Bantham Auditorium -- were Quinn's.

They spread everything out on a table by the fire, then settled into the wing chairs on either side that they'd colonized last night. Ian picked the Skyhawk for his game-piece, while Quinn chose the small dog. The next fifteen minutes passed in a frenzy of acquisition, then the real fun started for them -- horse-trading.

Negotiations were swift and deft, with experts clearly at work. Ian's grin became positively fierce when he ended up with the Blues, the Oranges, and the Yellows, making it almost impossible for Quinn to win. The roll of the dice would determine his fate now.

Undaunted, Quinn grinned back, enjoying the challenge. When he missed Taton by a whisker and landed on Go, he held out his hand for $200 from Ian the banker with a smirk. Ian started laughing as he counted out twenties, since most of the $100s were in his pile already. As Ian picked up the dice, Quinn waved his hand comically; it surely was just a coincidence when Ian had to fork over the $75 Luxury Tax.

The game ended when Quinn couldn't pay Ian for landing on Casa Espana, the university's Spanish-language house. He tried to mortgage his Reds, but they weren't enough, and Ian shook his head, saying, "Republic credits no good here."

Quinn groaned and leaned over to kiss the smirk off Ian's lips.

"Knew I'd monopolize you today." Ian's breath felt warm on Quinn's mouth.

"Wouldn't want it any other way, laddie." Quinn kissed him again, in love with his grin.

An endless moment later, Quinn smiled into his eyes and ruffled his hair. He said, "We'd best put the game away," idly speculating on why this always seemed to take longer than setting it up.

When Quinn stowed the Monopoly case in his duffel, he found his copy of Swordspoint. "In the mood, lad?"

Sitting back in their chairs, they picked up where they left off in their books and set out for adventures in Riverside and Santa Barbara. After about an hour, Ian started fidgeting, tapping his boots on the carpet. He looked up to see Quinn grinning at him in understanding.

"Ready for a walk?" Quinn asked.

"Rarin' to go."

They bundled up in their parkas, scarves, hats, and gloves, with Upstaters respect for the weather. Waving at Rick, they headed out of the inn on the mile-long trek to the village. Luckily, they were walking on fresh powder from that morning. The wind swept them along a trail lined with spruce trees. Invigorated by the cold freshness of the air, they walked at a good clip.

They didn't talk much, trying to keep the bitter cold out of their throats. Walking arm in arm made them feel warmer. Quinn was the first to see the brick and timber village through the trees. Snow sat on roofs and chimneys like whipped cream on a sundae, with the surrounding snowscape a creamy marshmallow sauce.

A craft shop beckoned them inside. Stamping their feet on the mat, they put their gloves in their pockets. The shop was overflowing with ornaments, nutcrackers, figurines, candles, and toys.

Quinn picked up a small nutcracker with a green jacket and blue pants. "Perfect for Lelia," he said in satisfaction.

Ian bought some beeswax candles and sachets for Ginny, Kathy, and Jo. They had it all sent to Alder Run and put on their gloves once more to brave the cold outside. The sign for a bookshop drew them in next. One of Ian's hobbies was studying the lore of the hamlets around them, so he got a history of Enderwald. Quinn went for an illustrated version of The Sketch Book by Washington Irving. As always, they thought of Lelia, selecting a book and doll of Samantha from the American Girl collection. These joined the crafts being sent home.

Before they left the shop, Quinn turned to Ian. "How 'bout a cappuccino?"

"Just the thing to warm us up," Ian answered.

When they went out, they scanned the street for cafes, and found one a few storefronts away. Dropping into a loveseat gratefully, their outerwear hung on pegs, they waited for their coffee to be ready.

Cinnamon was sprinkled on top of their drinks, and a gingerbread man perched on each mug, his wee leg dipping into the froth. What could be warmer? They sipped their coffee in contentment, feeling it warm them inside.

Quinn sank into the couch as if he owned it. "Why can't Oppo's make cappuccino like this?"

"I know. They're always looking for baristas." Ian licked foam from the side of his mug.

"Laddie," Quinn said chidingly, too mellow for a glare.

"Got me." Ian sighed and went back to sipping.

They stayed about forty-five minutes, as well-heated as they could be for the walk home. Then they set out for the inn, trudging into the white. A snow hare ran across their path and disappeared behind a tree trunk, leaving them in the powder.

By the time they got back to the inn, they were freezing once more. Quinn hurried to put a log on the fire as soon as they came in. Ian hung their parkas in the closet and stood in front of the fireplace, rubbing his hands. Quinn embraced him from behind, running his own hands over Ian's.

"You know just how to warm me up."

Quinn could hear Ian's smile as he turned his lad in his arms and kissed him deeply. On an impulse, he went down on his knees. "Do you know what day this is, laddie mine?"

Ian knelt in front of him, an indescribable look of tenderness on his face. "It's our Williamsburg anniversary. The first time you proposed to me." He pressed his ring to Quinn's reverently as he kissed him.

"And you said yes." Quinn's voice deepened with wonder. "Oh, laddie, until I met you I didn't think anyone would ever love me." Quinn nuzzled into his cheek.

"How could anyone not?" Ian's smile was beatific.

Touching foreheads, these simple words warming the room, they fell into each other's heat as they fell in love all over again.


End file.
